His Butler, Distracting
by HopieLuff
Summary: Ciel's reminiscences about his life are interrupted by his butler and a tasty treat. SebaCiel.


It was always raining.

Perhaps once, the constant rain had attracted him, made him enjoy the respite from the warmer summer months that brought with them so many tourists and problems – but now it was starting to bore him. So little could attract his attention when it seemed that even the villains were hiding from the weather, and with the company moving forward without a hitch, his work could be finished quite easily in the morning, leaving him with afternoons and evenings free to ... that was the problem. The free time he'd dreamed of when he'd been choked with work now seemed intrusive and excessive.

His servants were preparing for Christmas. Try as he might, he couldn't dull their festive mood, or have the heart to point out that Christmas still had three months to go before it crept into the timeframe where one needed to plan for it. At least it kept them busy and out of his hair, and in Sebastian's. From the small bursts of conversation he caught to and fro from the library or the game room, Sebastian was being pestered constantly for his opinion on things like tinsel and baubles. It made him chuckle to think of his demonic butler sat at a table, Finny at his side, and Bard observing, arguing over colour palettes that would both work with the decor of his mansion and still invoke the feeling of Christmas.

The empty library thrust his laughter back to him, an echo of hollow amusement; it sounded so lonely. Thoughtfully, he turned a crisp page, his eyes scanning the topmost line of text, but without interest. How... strange. He'd never noticed before how lonely his laughter, the few brief times he did, indeed, laugh. Sebastian, of course, would have kept his mind off it. He'd have pretended not to notice, or he'd have teased him about it, bought it to the forefront of his mind and made him blush, or he'd have kissed him, so quickly and so briefly, it could have been the wind or a feather grazing over his lips. His butler was useful for more than just rebuilding the manor when the servants destroyed it, or for coming up with the perfect combination of ingredients in just the right amount for eclectic dishes. Sebastian kept his mind off petulant human emotions such as loneliness, emptiness, the feeling of wandering down a dead end.

"Young master?"

If words could smirk, then Sebastian's did. Abruptly, Ciel straightened his back from where he'd been resting on the book and busily turned the next page. A scent of spice and raisins tickled across his nose as his butler appeared in the corner of his vision, carrying a china plate with a single mince-pie, which he set down at his side. Producing a fork and knife – from behind his back, maybe, though he knew better than to take the obvious answer with Sebastian – he cut a small slice out of the morsel. Smoke rose in wisps, the delicious aroma of sweetened mince and nuts and something sweet holding his attention like a helpless puppy. Quirking a brow as Sebastian speared the bit of pie onto the fork, he felt the need to point out, "it's a little early to be sampling mince pies, isn't it?"

"I agree, young master – however, as this one is already made..." Sebastian's shoulders moved elegantly in a shrug, "it seems silly not to try it, wouldn't it, young master?"

"It seems silly to be making mince pies in September when I know fully well that you'll undoubtedly come across some little known herb or trick and make better ones than you have done now," Ciel pointed out sharply, but grasped the fork to humour him, slipping the morsel past his lips. As expected of Sebastian's handiwork, it was delicious, a soft, tangy flavour of mincemeat and blueberries that melted in the mouth, with the sweetness of the frosting lingering on his tongue long after he'd eaten it. "It's delicious, Sebastian. I would expect nothing less."

Ciel turned back to his work, leaving the rest of the mince-pie on the plate, planning to get to it later. He was so sure that Sebastian would leave him alone now, that he didn't notice the butler biting the soft index finger of his glove and tugging it off his right hand. His mind focused on the novel he was reading, he only looked up when, with a pale, soft hand, Sebastian drew his chin up.

Colour flooded his cheeks as he watched his Sebastian extend a long tongue and delicately lick the corner of his mouth. Pinpricks of pleasure tickled the edges of several sensitive, and forgotten nerves, and his eyes fluttered shut to enjoy the momentary break from stuffy novels. Coiling his arms childishly around Sebastian's neck, he pressed his other cheek to his lips and shivered when the tip of that same tongue stroked over his cheek-bone. Oh, they shouldn't do this when the servants could catch them so easily... but at the same time...

Sebastian seemed to come to his senses faster than he did and pulled away. In front of his eyes, he watched his butler move to put his glove on, and growled, snapping out a curt, "Where are you going?"

"Back to the kitchen, my lord," Sebastian's brows raised in amusement as Ciel treated the concept as though he'd told him he was going to a brothel. "Is it not to your displeasure?"

"I... I'm not yet clean... from... from the frosting," he stuttered, and swept a sneaky fingertip through the white powder. Hesitant, he rubbed the sugary substance into the right side of his neck and over his collar-bone. Licking the remainder of the substance off his fingertip, he smirked and demanded, "Sebastian, clean this frosting off me. Thoroughly."

Sebastian's lips quirked into a wide smile. Lovingly, he bent his head down to his young master's neck and murmured, an instant before his tongue could skate over flesh, "yes, my lord."


End file.
